The Duke and The Duchess

O,

if only words
could contain the undying lust that sprays from your beauty.

Some men till for you.

Others build moutains.

I, so humbly, take privilege in your mere existence.

No words can describe mere beauty anymore,
at least not in your tongue.

And what of your tongue?
I see you are blatantly bored by my banter.
Am I to touch your leg?

(I hear a violin)

What's that running form your pants?
I swear, it burst from your zipper.

Is this a jungle? Are we at war?
Why do you pant this way,
and why do you sweat so much?

Allow me to continue...

Captain Crunch

I do not know when time ends and time begins
or if a week ago is a month ago (a day ago)
or sometime last year.

I can't tell
from the expiry date on my card
when exactly I'm going to die.

I can only tell
from the dust in my bones
and the wind in my pocket
whether what's what-
and what is closer-
and what is farther than none.

I can tell from the look in your eyes
and the smell of wine on your breath
that the cheaper talk is humming
and the reaper is coming.

when bugs come out and start to play
and I'm standing here,
all alone,
(wond'ring why I'm all alone)

and I still can't tell what time it is
and I still can't tell what month I'm in
or what year I'll die
or what day it is,

at least I'll know it's now.